Seabound
by SpaceWolfQueen
Summary: Stormcloaks have won the war for Skyrim but dragons still threaten the land. Raven lives in fear of claiming her birthright as Dragonborn and the High King knows this. He uses this secret to control her. He sends her North, into the seas to take care of the threat of pirates. With Brynjolf by her side, Raven hopes to outrun fate. But the seas have a different path in store.
1. Chapter 1

**Please read the author's note at the end of this chapter for more details on this story.**

* * *

Water dripped down from the stone ceiling onto the stone floor in the cavern-like stone room. It was a repetitive noise, _plop, plop, plop_ which was bound to drive any person near it stark, raving mad. And the smell! Gods, the smell would burn the nose hairs right off if one were to inhale too deeply. It was a pungent odor only to be found far below the city in tunnels where less fortunate shared living quarters with skeevers who fed on things so rotten one wouldn't be able to discern what it had originally been. It was no place for a person to be, let alone a _woman_. Or so polite society would have one believe.

Raven had learned long ago polite society would always look down their noses a her. If not for her upbringing, then for the way she carried herself, never leaving home without wearing armor and weapons strapped at the ready. Once, she had tried to please those of higher status, but she would not make the same mistake a second time.

Leaning against the cold stone wall, Raven propped up a foot against it and crossed her arms over her chest: the picture of at ease to anyone who did not know her. Those who did would see it differently.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, listening. All was still but the tap-tapping of the water and her finger matching its tempo against the soft leather of her armor covered bicep.

 _Tap. Tap. Tap._

A far off skeever scurried along the dirt covered stone floor searching for rotting flesh to fulfill its appetite. But it was not the sound Raven was waiting for.

 _Tap. Tap. Tap._

There! Another soft tapping hidden just below the rhythm of the water. This too was against stone but it was not liquid. No, it was the tapping of footsteps, trained to be hidden behind other sounds.

"I'm over here," Raven said in a soft voice just above a whisper. "Glad you seem to have managed to find the time to speak with me." The words held a biting note, frustration not properly vented.

"What is it, lass?" Brynjolf stepped closer, just within Raven's vision of the poorly lit, abandoned room.

In the corner, a rotting table held a single candle lit atop it. Its small flame cast a glow just bright enough for the two to make out one another. Better to keep the light in the room as minimal as possible. If the smell was any indication of what someone would find, Raven certainly didn't need to see it. The room had been long forgotten from when the guilds' numbers had dwindled.

"I have important things to do," Brynjolf stated in that odd accent of his.

"Ah," Raven breathed with a shake of her head. She pushed off the wall and approached the red-headed man before her. "Yes, so I have heard."

The air between them sparked with words neither would voice out loud. Angry words which they stifled back, just below the surface. It had been that way between them for some time. Raven couldn't pinpoint the exact moment things had changed. Rather, it was like a storm building between them. What had once been a innocent, whiff of a cloud, had churned into a dark, thunder-rumbling threat.

"Out with it," Brynjolf grunted, looking away from the dark and knowing eyes piercing him. It was a gaze he had seen cut through others' guards without her even breaking a sweat. She was like a hound, sniffing out the betrayers and punishing them without mercy. Judge and executioner was the Guild Master. And now her focus was trained on him. She was suspicious of the man she once trusted at her back.

"The High King has requested my assistance with a troubling matter," Raven replied.

"Ah!" Brynjolf barked. "This certainly explains everything so clearly."

Raven repressed an eye roll, knowing he was only trying to rial her up, get under her skin. "This is no laughing matter, Brynjolf."

The man startled at the sound of his own name. It had been long since she'd addressed him as anything other than her "second" and even longer since they had talked to one another alone.

"The King is sending me away. I am sworn to obey his orders," Raven said.

Water dripped against the stone floor, the only sound in the room. Raven had sent Brynjolf word to meet her here. It was an old hideout they had used back when they were still close. They had meet down there to discuss the guild and its members. Mercer had been merely the head of the serpent. Raven and Brynjolf had been left to weed out Mercer's men and women. This room had been their headquarters.

"Ye want me to look after the Guild," Brynjolf said. It was not a question. This would not be the first time Raven had asked him to step in while she went off all across Skyrim doing Gods knew what. He did find it odd, though, to make such a request in such a secretive way.

"I want you to come with me."

Brynjolf's jaw dropped before he could regain his composure and quickly shut it once more.

Raven didn't give him the chance to respond. "There is a threat to Skyrim's northern border. The High King is sending me with a few of his guards to handle it."

"The northern border?" Brynjolf repeated. "But that would mean-"

"Pirates," Raven interjected. "Pirates have claimed the seas between Skyrim and Morrowind. All trade has been stopped."

"Gods," Brynjolf breathed. "First we have bloody dragons raining down fire and ice from the skies and now bloody _pirates_ ," he spat out the name like a bad curse.

Raven stilled at the mention of dragons. The Guild didn't know. Brynjolf didn't know. And yet she lived in constant fear of them discovering her secret. Of Skyrim discovering her secret. Rumors were already spreading across the lands like hot ashes in the wind. Soon the fire would ignite in her face and all would know.

 _But perhaps..._

Perhaps if she went on this fool of a quest, she could burry the secret at the bottom of the sea. Time away could do some good, quiet the rumors of sightings and what not. Skyrim and her people were strong; perhaps the problem would be taken care of before her return.

"Why do ye wish me to join you, lass," Brynjolf interrupted her thoughts.

"Even now, there is no other I would trust at my back," Raven shrugged, playing the words off lightly. "Delvin and Vex can watch over matters here."

"Even now..." Brynjolf repeated the words so softly, Raven wasn't sure he had even spoken them.

"We leave at dawn," Raven said as if he hadn't. "If you are going to join me, meet me at the city's gate. We'll prepare our horses and then ride out."

Brynjolf looked down at the small woman before him. Even in the poor light, his eyes could make out her hair; it was a shade darker than the shadows surrounding them. Its blackness contrasted with the paleness of her white skin which glowed. She was a Nord but Brynjolf would bet his life she had some Dark Elf blood in her. Raven's dark brown eyes were almost black themselves and the corners were slightly pinched just like an Elf's. But the tint to her skin color was a flattering gray hue instead of the yellowy-green of the High Elf race. She was so small. Gods! How could a King ever entrust such a small creature to deal with a threat out on open seas? Her skills lied in stealth, not open battle. If Brynjolf let her leave, he'd certainly never see her return.

"What is there you aren't telling me?" Brynjolf asked. He had his suspicions. The lass had used her size to fool many a men before him and many after him. She played a tricky game with any who crossed her path. Brynjolf had never been an exception to that.

Raven stiffened. Her eyes narrowed up at the Nord. "Nothing which you need to know in order to complete the quest."

The threat was the pirates. The bandits who had taken to the seas in search of riches and infamy. It was certainly all her second in command needed to know. Small details the High King had given her, were a need to know basis only. And they were only theories and rumors anyway. It did not change the threat the pirates posed or the instructions Raven had been given.

"Ye've kept many secrets from me, lass," Brynjolf started in on her, taking small, silent steps to close the space between them. He was trying to intimidate her even though he knew it would not work. "Do not forget what consequences have come to past because of yer decision to do so."

Raven met the Nord's bright green glare with a raised chin and clenched jaw. Even in the dim light his eyes flashed at her with promised danger. She'd seen that same look directed at a Guild's target.

"I will not forget; I trust you will do the same."

* * *

Dawn came, bringing a chilled fog along with it. Birds called to one another but the sound travelled in odd waves, struggling to move through the thickness.

Shadowmere stood still, ready for the long journey ahead; his black coat shone in the soft light of the morning from his bath just the night before. Raven never took him anywhere without first giving him a proper preparation. Next to him was a dark brown horse with white patches freckling its coat. Both horses had packs tied down on their backs, just enough supplies to get them to Windhelm. Raven and Brynjolf were both experts on the bare essentials. There was no need for a pack horse.

Raven nodded to Brynjolf when he returned from the stables to pay the rent for the horse. Without an exchange of words, both Nords climbed atop their horses and set out for the journey ahead.

The first half of the day past in silence until Raven broke it to point out a spot by the river to let the horses rest while they ate their lunch. The fog had cleared but ominous clouds still threatened to open and dampen the travelers.

"This bread's dry," Brynjolf grunted through bites, crumbs of the bread flying forward and getting caught in his red whiskers.

Raven didn't bother to reply. The less conversation to pass between them, the better. After their encounter the night before, Raven hadn't even been sure the man would show up at the gate. He had, though he hadn't looked happy about it. With little sleep, Raven hadn't been in a mood to try and patch up any hurt feelings between them. The wounds ran too deep anyways. It would be like bandaging the surface of a wound and then discovering it ran bone deep.

Brynjolf washed down the dry bread with a swig of ale and then wiped his beard clean of any drops. "So what's the plan then, lass?" he asked, setting the now empty mug down at his feet. They'd both decided to take their meals standing to give their rumps a break from all the sitting and jostling in the saddles.

"We arrive at Windhelm and report to the High King," Raven shrugged before taking another bite of cheese. It was a pathetic excuse for a meal but it traveled better.

Brynjolf shook his head. "Nay. How is it ye plan to deal with the pirates?" The conversation had been cut short when Raven had simply walked away, leaving Brynjolf alone to ponder over the request. Before he wouldn't have thought twice about it. Perhaps it was the fool in him who hoped things between them could be repaired, but he had joined her without knowing much of what he was getting himself into.

Instead of answering straight away, Raven finished chewing her cheese and a bite of bread followed by a sip of her ale. She didn't want to give Brynjolf many details; she had been instructed not to by the High King himself. He had told her the orders were for her ears only. In fact, the High King probably hadn't even wanted her to bring one of her own men, which is precisely why she had done so. If she had bothered to ask permission, the answer would have been a flat no. But she needed someone she knew, someone she could trust. Even if that person was Brynjolf.

Raven chose her words carefully. "We must find the heart of the pirates and destroy it."

Brynjolf starred daggers at her until she finally met his gaze. "Ye cannot expect me to follow blindly, lass. I am not a dog on yer heels."

Raven _wanted_ to tell him. Gods! She wanted to tell him everything. To confined in the one person she had learned to trust more than anyone else before him. But the High King had eyes and ears everywhere; he knew her secret. How could she risk people discovering it just to have a few moment's peace of mind with this?

"We once trusted one another, Brynjolf," Raven pleaded him with her eyes, refusing to voice the words she could not. "I am asking you to trust me once more, to follow me and know I will not lead you into anything you and I cannot handle."

The silence between them stretched on for too long; Raven was sure he would still argue. She could see the thoughts bounding back and forth in his eyes, questions and arguments he wanted to speak. Instead he said, "Aye, lass. I will follow ye then. But," he paused and raised a finger, pointing at her for emphasis, "when we return, we shall have a long chat, you and I."

Raven agreed. What else was she to say to that? If their roles had been reversed, Raven wouldn't have even bothered to show up that morning at the gate. Though, Brynjolf had always been a better man than she gave him credit for.

Much of the afternoon passed just the same as the first half of the day, in silence. Occasionally a word was passed between the two, but never more than that. They had gone so long avoiding one another, to be thrown back together, alone, was an uncomfortable situation for them both.

Only a few hours remained until nightfall when the skies decided to open up and release the rains it had been holding in all day. No matter how far they had traveled, the dark clouds had stand close above them, as if the storm were following them, a darkness they could not shake.

Thunder rumbled as lightening flashed, startling Brynjolf's horse.

"Bloodly mare," he grumbled before shushing her to ease.

Raven had just turned to him to see if he needed assistance, when a flash of movement caught the corner of her eye. Shadowmere drew up short and looked to the skies.

"Did you see-"

Raven's words were cut short by the thunderous roar from above, too loud and too close to be only thunder from the storm.

"By the Gods!" Brynjolf cursed, his head thrown back, eyes following the dark shadow circling above them.

 _No!_

The plea was pointless. Raven knew this. But why now? Why couldn't the creature have chosen any other time or place to make its attack. She didn't have time for this but she couldn't run. Not now. What would Brynjolf think?

 _Damn that Nord._

If not for his presence, Raven could have run and continued avoiding this problem for some time more. She'd been avoiding the creatures, dodging their attacks for months, ever since she'd discovered who she was.

" _Dragon!_ " Brynjolf shouted. His horse reared back on its hind legs as the Nord drew his sword, unleashing a battle cry.

* * *

 **AN: Wow! It has been a very long time since I've written "The Dragonborn and Her Thief." But, I've heard you guys and decided to write more. Yes, Raven and Brynjolf are from that one shot. The characters are the same (i.e. tempers/stubbornness/attraction to one another) but I'm not going to be confining myself to that one shot. This fic has taken a bit of a different turn. Sorry. But if you liked that smut, you can expect that same kind of smut in this fic later on.**

 **I'm not sure if pirates have ever really been introduced into the Elder Scrolls world but I am really excited to do just that. This fic is greatly inspired by Skyrim and its lore but I may change some minor things so please don't freak out. If you're wanting to know timeline wise of where this story fits in with the game: Raven is the Dragonborn but hasn't answered the summons from High Hrothgar. The Stormcloaks won the war (Raven however was not involved). The Thieve's Guild has been restored with Raven as the Guild Master. The Dark Brotherhood was destroyed but Raven was able to retrieve Shadowmere. I think these are the only details you need to know for now. Everything else will be addressed along the way.**

 **Disclaimer: Raven is not actually a dragonborn I've played the game through with (but I have played the game through about three and a half times). So I won't be following quests from the game very closely. She is actually heavily inspired by a character I had planned to write a book on but probably never will.**

 **Second disclaimer: It's hard for me to self edit my own writing. So I apologize for minor grammar and spelling mistakes. My brain also has this annoying habit of sometimes switching words (i.e. like and that, good and could) so if you see something like that, PLEASE tell me.**

 **I'll tried to update once a week. But I apologize if I'm too busy to maintain that goal.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry for the delay! My life has gotten crazy busy. I've basically got 3 jobs now. Hopefully I'll be better about posting new chapters in the future but I don't think it'll be once a week like I was shooting for.**

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The beast thundered above them, raining fire in their direction. It was no question; the dragon had targeted them. There would be no escaping the fight, no hiding while the beast flew overhead until it grew bored and moved on.

Raven's secret would be exposed.

"Lass!" Brynjolf shouted for her attention. "We must force it to land. Draw yer bow and injure the bloody creature!"

Shadowmere shuffled under her as if to jostle her into action. Drawing her bow and an arrow, Raven leaned back and took aim. With a deep breath she lined up her shot as the dragon swooped down at them.

Raven struggled to remain cool and collected but failed miserable. On the outside she appeared just to be focusing on the battle, on the inside she was a mess. She felt like a rabbit pinned down with no way out. If she fought the dragon, Brynjolf would discover her secret. If she didn't, they'd both wind up dead.

The arrow sliced through the air. The two Nords watched its path towards the raging dragon. Raven held her breath, waiting for the familiar sound of her arrow hitting its target.

 _Miss._

Raven's shoulders drooped. She hadn't missed a shot in longer than she could remember.

"Come on!" Brynjolf shouted in frustration. "Hit the bastard!"

The horses darted out of the way as the dragon snapped its teeth towards its intended meal. The beating of its wings were close enough to knock a less skilled rider from their horse but both Nords kept their grips and dodged to either side.

"Here he comes, lass! Take yer shot!" Brynjolf was playing the bait, luring the dragon towards him to allow Raven to injure the beast.

Brynjolf was right; they had to force the dragon to land. Brynjolf's battle skills lied in his swords. With the beast in the air, he was practically useless. On the ground, the odds were in their favor.

The second arrow soared overhead, through the air hitting its target square. Raven allowed herself a grin as the dragon roared in pain, clawing at its face. The arrow stuck out from the dragon's right eye, impeding his sight. As the creature tried to pull out the arrow, its flight faltered, causing the dragon to hit several trees before landing to the ground, shaking the woods surrounding them.

Brynjolf released a triumphant shout and raced towards the wounded creature with his sword drawn, leaving his horse safely behind. With a word to Shadowmere to stay put, Raven reluctantly joined him and the two Nords fought side by side with ease. The fight was a dance to them as they dodged and ducked, protecting one another as each took a strike. While Raven was skilled in swords, Brynjolf was no match and soon the beast let out its final cry, crumpling to the ground in a large heap of wings and scales.

Brynjolf grinned and jumped down from the dragon's back where he had delivered the death strike to the dragon's head. He seemed almost childlike with his giddiness. It must have been his first fight with a dragon and he'd lived to tell the tale.

"Did ye see-" Brynjolf's question was cut short as he stared at Raven with confusion written all over his face.

Raven froze where she stood. Here it was; the moment that she had been dreading but couldn't avoid. Brynjolf would discover her secret and it would all be over.

 _Too late._ Raven thought to herself. Once her body began to absorb the dragon's soul, it couldn't be stopped. It had only happened once before but the sensation was all too familiar. Fire raced through her veins until her body felt as if it would explode from the sheer heat. Just before she was sure she couldn't take one more second, the fire cooled as quickly as it had built, leaving her body feeling warm and strong.

"Dragonborn," Brynjolf breathed.

His voice sounded far away to Raven's ears. The strength of the dragon's soul in her body was short lived. What would Brynjolf do now that he knew her secret?

"The bloody _Dragonborn?!"_ Brynjolf snarled. "Yer the bloody Dragonborn!" His voice was full of disbelief but under the surface, Raven could hear just the hint of betrayal. "So the rumors are true then? A bloody Dragonborn has returned. How long have you known?" He glared at her, waiting for a response.

There was no use playing innocent. Rumors had been spreading through Skyrim for some time now, ever since Raven had discovered her identity alongside the Whiterun guards. The High King had been the one to try and silence the rumors but even his money couldn't buy complete silence on something like this. It had only helped keep Raven's name from being tied to the title Dragonborn.

"Awhile," Raven replied. Her cool stare met his fiery one as the silence between them dragged on.

"Why did ye not tell me?" he asked in a strained voice.

"It was dangerous."

It wasn't a good enough answer even if it was the truth and Raven knew it. But how could she explain to him her fear of being the Dragonborn, of having Skyrim's future rest on her shoulders? It was one thing to lead the Guild, but this was an entire land full of people who had already had their strength tested by a civil war. The last thing they needed was a scared girl as their hero. The High King was right; Raven needed to let him handle the Dragons. He had armies, men who could battle the dragons and save the land and her people. All Raven needed to do was stay silent.

"For who?" Brynjolf glared. "You or me?"

Raven shook her head, not wanting to answer the question. As she opened her mouth, hoping an answer would come to her, the clouds rumbled overhead and released the torrential rain they'd been holding back all day.

"We should find some shelter," Brynjolf brushed past her to collect his horse. He didn't wait to see if she would follow him as he searched for a nearby cave to get out of the down pour.

By the time they'd found a small cave to make camp in, the sun had set and they were both soaked through to the bone. Even with her heavy armor, the cold had seeped through and chilled Raven so that she had to clench her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering.

Without a word, Brynjolf left Raven to tend the horses while he tried to find dry wood for a fire, though Raven suspected he mostly just wanted to get away from her for a bit. When at last he had returned, empty-handed, Raven had already unloaded the packs and saddles from the horses, laying things out as best as she could for them to dry. She'd removed the black leather Nightingale armor and laid it out to dry as well. Her underclothes were damp but it was better than sitting in wet leather. As she directed her attention to cleaning her weapons, Brynjolf stepped in through the mouth of the dark cave.

"Well, we've no bloody wood for a fire," he grumbled as he threw back the hood from his head and shook out his shoulder-length hair. Water droplets flew to either side, splashing Raven's cheek in the process. She glared at this but decided not to say anything in response.

They were on thin ice. Brynjolf saw Raven's secret as a betrayal to him and the Guild. It was something that could put the Guild in danger. Dragons were attracted to Raven like a moth to a flame. They could sense her likeness to them, putting a target on not only her own back but the backs of those close to her.

As if reading her mind, Brynjolf said, "We need to talk, lass."

The dark cave made it difficult to see one another as any more than black shapes moving around even with their trained eyes.

"Brynjolf-" Raven began.

"I don't want no excuse, lass," Brynjolf cut off her prepared protest. "I agreed to trust ye on this quest but the situation has changed. Ye owe me an explanation."

"It's not like I asked for this!" Raven shouted defensively. She'd pent up her emotions for so long, now they were slowly leaking out and Brynjolf was the closest one to take the brunt of them.

"Start at the beginning, lass," he instructed as he settled down away from the mouth of the cave and the biting wind passing by it.

Raven's eyes watched his movements as he took off his boots and laid them out to dry though she was hardly focused on the dark motions.

"When I discovered this about myself," she began, "I wanted none of it. The Whiterun guards who had fought next to me cheered when my body absorbed the dragon's soul. It was like they thought a prayer had been answered." Raven closed her eyes, recalling how they had pleaded for her to use a shout, to further prove she was in fact the Dragonborn. They'd been excited, to excited to notice the fear and dread in her eyes. "I raced back to the city and heard this terrible shouting from the mountains. The Jarl explained I was to go to High Hrothgar. It was my _destiny_ ," Raven spat out the word, hating the way it sounded. Didn't she have any say in her own destiny?

"Then what?" Brynjolf asked before the silence could drag on any longer.

"The High King sent a messenger and a few guards after me, intersecting me before I even reached the steps. He said he would aide me." Raven shook her head. She'd been so foolish, thinking the guards had been sent to protect her. She'd been naïve to think the High King wanted to help her. But what choice had she had? Looking back on it now, Raven was sure if she had refused the offer, the guards would have turned on her and escorted her back to the king anyways.

Brynjolf took a breath but before he could speak, Raven cut off his words. "I can tell you no more!" Her tone of voice silenced any rebuttal. The horses shuffled their hooves in the cold silence.

Part of her agreement with the king was silence on her end. No one could know all that she had agreed to.

Brynjolf sighed. "It's cold and I'm tired lass. But this discussion is no over," Brynjolf's voice was steel slicing through the tension in the small space. "We'll need our rest if we're to continue on this quest." He turned his back on her to prepare his bedroll for sleep.

His words told her much more than he had said. Brynjolf would go on with her as he had promised but she would have to give him more answers if he were to continue risking his life alongside hers.

Raven knew he was right. She couldn't keep everything from him. Sooner or later the truth of the agreement between herself and the High King would be revealed. Once it was, any chance of repairing the damage already between them would be gone. Brynjolf would never look at her the same. Raven knew because she couldn't even bare to look at her own reflect. It was just a reminder of how much she hated the person she had become. What would she do when Brynjolf looked at her the same way as she saw herself?

* * *

 **I know this chapter was a bit on the short side but I had to cut it off here or it would have been much too long and I wouldn't have had time to upload it today on my day off.**

 **One quick update for any of my regular readers: I deleted my Tumblr so if you want to ask any questions or contact me, you can do that on here in either a message or a review!**

 **Let me know what you guys thought about the story so far and any theories you have! Your feedback gives me the kick in the butt I need to post new chapters.**


	3. Chapter 3

The morning dawned just as cold and dreary as the night had dragged on. Raven had spent the night tossing and turning. What little sleep she'd achieved had been fleeting at that. The nights were always the hardest. They drudged up old memories, manipulating the comfort of the darkness into something sinister.

She could have told Brynjolf. She could have opened her mouth and spilled all her secrets, laying them out between the pair like a soldier's guts seeping from an open wound on the battle field. She could have. But she did not.

Instead their brief meal of dried meat and cheese passed in awkward silence. Both refusing to break it even with something as simple as a "morning." Neither even acknowledge the other with a formal nod.

Such was the remainder of their journey. The consistent clopping of the horses' hoofs and the dark clouds hanging over head, made the time pass at a grinding pace. It was enough to tempt Raven into closing her eyes, if just for a moment.

The landscape changed from cold and rainy and dark to cold and snowy and gray. No hint of the sun peeked its way through the cold coverage. No ray of light winked down at them to offer any kind of taste of warmth. Eventually the dull gray faded into a darker gray, signaling the approaching night.

"Lass," the quite word shot through the silence like a whip at her back, jolting her back into keen awareness. Brynjolf's voice was tense, forcing himself to speak through his teeth. He hated to break the silence first.

Raven glanced over her right shoulder to acknowledge she'd heard him. His mouth opened but then quickly shut, as if he'd thought better of whatever it was he had been going to say.

"We're here," Brynjolf stated, his eyes looking past her.

Snow had begun to fall from the gray sky above them. The snowflakes fluttered in tiny swirls all around as the soft wind carried them to their multiple destinations. It wouldn't be long before one of the guards with a team of horses came with a specially designed cart to clear off the small mountains and valleys of white which covered the road to the city.

For the time of year, the weather was mild. A small blessing from the gods.

Raven gave a small nod in response to Brynjolf's statement, words failing to rise from her dry throat.

Windhelm loomed above them like a stone beast of a mountain as they followed the road under its shadow. It was one of Skyrim's largest cities. Though why they had decided to build it in the gods-forsaken land of the North, Raven would never understand.

Lore claimed Ysgramor built it in honor of one of his sons. Or was it his only son?

Raven shook her head at the thought. As if any of that really mattered. Nordic history had been pounded into her from a young age. As she'd grown and branched out to learn about her mother's linage, she'd resented the Nord in her and what it represented.

With a swift dismount, Raven handed over the reins to Shadowmere to the young stable boy. His eyes widened as he took in the large, black beast with fiery eyes. She tossed him a few coins.

"There's more where that came from if you bring our belongings to the Candlehearth Hall," Raven said.

The boy nodded, his bright brown eyes so wide they appeared to fill half his face; the other half was his mouth hanging open in awe.

Without a look back, Raven set off. Brynjolf matched her quick pace across the long bridge leading into the city. The sooner she met with the High King, the sooner she would be away from him.

"State your business," a guard called out when the two were close enough.

"I've business with the High King and no others," Raven said with just enough bite and authority to ward off any questioning. Reaching into one of the folds of her armor, Raven withdrew the summoning from the King. It was the shorter of the two. One giving her clearance, the other explaining what would happen should she try to ignore the summons. Again.

"Forgive me," the guard handed the tattered letter with the High King's seal back to her with a shaking hand. "I- I did not realize…" he motioned to another guard to open the gate.

Raven didn't bother to reassure him. In the beginning, she'd tried to play nice, to smile and tell them she wasn't as mean as the King claimed. But why pretend? The High King may make up his own version of her, but it didn't mean the real version was any better.

It wasn't as if she wanted to make friends with the guards. She just tired of seeing the fear in their eyes and hearing the whispers following her around like spiders in the dark corners of every room she entered.

Once they'd cleared the gate, it closed behind them with a resounding _thud_. The High King never allowed the gate to remain open after dark. He'd won his civil war but Skyrim was no safer for it. How could it be? Not just Nords called this land home as much as Ulfric Stormcloak wanted to believe.

"Wait for me at the inn," Raven instructed. She tossed her coin pouch to Brynjolf who caught it out of reflex. "I won't be long."

And she wouldn't be. All she was here to do was check in, take her orders, and the little money Ulfric was willing to part with.

Never let a High King in on your secrets; they rarely parted with any precious gold afterwards. Instead they paid in borrowed time.

Brynjolf nodded, his eyes not meeting hers. No doubt the words he had been going to say earlier were still stewing in his mind.

What had he been about to say? What thought had entered his mind important enough to break the mutinous silence between them?

The questions nagged at Raven until she reached the Palace of the Kings. The sight of the towering doors before her overshadowed any other concern she may have. Right now only one thing mattered: survival. Surviving the next few moments. Surviving the High King.

Raven threw back her hood, revealing her face to the guards.

No questions were asked before these doors opened. The guards knew her. The fear in their eyes confirmed this.

The palace, as it was called, was glorious. No other word could describe it. Within large hearths, warm fires raged all around, keeping the cold northern snow at bay. The furnishings were grand and elaborately carved, filling the expansive room. Thick tapestries hung from the walls depicting battle scenes of grandeur. Nordic heroes raised bloody axes into the air, moments away from striking down their foes. Raven could almost hear the battle cries rising around her.

"My Thane," his voice slithered through the great hall and wrapped around her in a cold, iron grip. "Come, come."

Stealing herself with a deep inhale of warm air, Raven approached the High King.

* * *

"Bring 'er here, lass!" Brynjolf shouted above the boisterous crowd as he flagged down the serving girl. He slurred his words, speaking with a thick tongue. "Ye're a pretty sight for sore eyes."

The girl giggled at his wink. Leaning over to fill up his mug, she batted her eyelashes his way.

"What's a sweet lass like you working at a hole like this?" Brynjolf smiled up at the blond Nord. She was young. Almost too young. She really shouldn't be here. She looked too pure.

"Waiting to meet a strong man like yourself," she smiled at him and squeezed his bicep.

It was too easy. Brynjolf preferred a challenge. But the only other option was the man serving behind the bar with a scowl on his face. It was doubtful men shared any secrets with him.

"Tell me," Brynjolf grabbed the lass's arm and pulled her into his lap. She smacked his arm with another high-pitched giggle but didn't protest even as the pitcher of ale sloshed about in her hand. "How long have ye been waitin'?"

"Oh you're a feign!"

"Rightly so!" It was the only true thing Brynjolf would say to the girl all evening.

* * *

The Palace of Kings was a dark labyrinth of hallways filled with closed doors. Since the end of the war, Ulfric had doubled the number of guards roaming the corridors. He claimed it was a show of power, but Raven knew better. He'd won the war but not the hearts of the people.

It'd taken longer than she'd thought it would to hear out his orders and repeat them back. She'd received the proper papers of passage and just enough coin to board the ship. The high King claimed she'd be compensated when the job was complete. No arguments.

Raven stole through the quiet palace, avoiding guards, intent on making it out one of the many windows without being seen. For the Guild Master, it was a piece of cake. A piece of sweet roll. Or a piece of apple pie. Gods she was hungry.

With a quick glance around, Raven slipped out the window and closed it behind her. A soft _click_ as the latch slid back into place was the only sound in the deep night around her.

Raven entered the inn with a swirl of snow on her heels. The main floor was empty but for a serving girl wiping down tables. She glanced up at Raven with a dazed look in her eyes.

"Kitchen's closed," she called out in a voice just a notch too high for the sleeping inn.

Ignoring her, Raven made her way around the stone hearth built in the center of the hall to the far, dark corner where Brynjolf waited. A bowl of stew and a cup of ale greeted her while the thief glared at her with a cold stare.

"Report," Raven demanded after several bites of the now cold meal.

"Nothing ye don't already know, Guild Master," he sneered the title at her. His bulky arms were crossed over his wide chest. The red of his hair was enhanced by the light of the fire behind her.

Brynjolf never allowed his back to face an open area. It unsettled him. Raven understood this. She herself had the habit.

Except when she was with Brynjolf.

How long had it been since the two of them had gone on a job like this? How long had it been since she trusted the Nord with her back?

 _Too long._

It was an unwelcomed thought. Distracting herself with a gulp of ale to force down the stew, Raven struggled to bury the thought deep into a dark corner of her mind.

"I've received my orders," Raven replied in a cool tone. "We're to leave at dawn aboard _The North Wind_."

Brynjolf snorted as if it amused him.

Ignoring him, Raven continued. "Once we are at a sea, I'll fill you in on the specifics. Until then, get some rest."

She rose and turned from him before he could protest. There was much to do before they set sail. Raven would need to see to the horses and their belongings. She'd also need to speak to the Captain, size him up. The High King had chosen the ship and Captain personally. Any man the king trusted, she didn't.

Even more so now, Raven needed Brynjolf at her side.

* * *

 **I am so, so, SO very sorry! Life happened. And then kept happening. And it's still happening. But I've missed writing. I really am going to try and keep updating. Consistently and often. I promise I won't let another year go by before I update. To any of you out there who've reviewed and to those who didn't give up on me just yet, THANK YOU! Seriously.**

 **Wow. I've really missed writing. Hope you enjoyed!**


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